


Ode to Rowena

by PensAndPotions



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Backstory, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5821081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PensAndPotions/pseuds/PensAndPotions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For most of Supernatural, between most of the fans, Rowena got a bit of a bad rep. Between being seen as manipulative, neglecting, and just all-around horrible, as we have seen in the latest episode, she was quite misunderstood. In this story, I give her the backstory and explanation I think she deserves.</p>
<p>DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU HAVE SEEN 'O BROTHER WHERE ART THOU' (11x10)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rowena was always my favourite character since she was introduced, and it really sucked to hear the bad shit that everyone was saying about her, especially before the new episode. Now, after the events of 11x10 (I don't wanna talk about it), I feel like Rowena deserves some form of backstory, or at least an explanation.
> 
> This is going to come in a few parts, and the next part will have a time difference from the last. Sometimes it will be a small amount of time, but others will be longer. Either way, it will be subtly highlighted.
> 
> Enjoy! Kudos, comment, all that good stuff. And make sure to follow my tumblr if you're not already @just-crowley-things

With a triumphant yell, we barged through the barricaded double doors into the church. The two priests scattered, desperately trying to gather the flying pages disturbed from the icy chill outside. Serves them right, not letting us in. This is a public space, anyhow, even though it’s not Sunday. Two of the biggest men of our group surged forward, and each picked up a priest as if he weighed nothing more than a few pieces of straw. The two men threw each of them into the back room and locked the door from the outside to much cheering, before dragging a heavy chest in front, muffling the frantic bangs from the inside.  
I stood and watched from the side with my friend Meredith as the rest of the men in the group lifted the pews out to the sides, leaving a clear space in the middle. People then poured in, finding pairs – and groups of three in some cases – quickly. 

“What do we do?” I whispered.  
Meredith shrugged. “Find someone.”  
A man winked at her from across the room and began to make his way toward her. He was broad-shouldered and tall, and very handsome. She chuckled lightly to herself.  
“Don’t think. Just do.”

She left me alone to the side.

I looked away. I really didn’t want to be here. The last thing I would ever want to do on a Saturday evening would be busting into a church to have sex with a multitude of people. But, as Meredith so bluntly pointed out when she was persuading me to come, I’m almost seventeen. It’s unlikely that any self-respecting man will take me. Might as well get some fun out of my misfortune. 

The reason I’m not married is partly my fault, although it’s mostly my father’s. He’s a tanner by trade, and always wanted a son to help in the shop, but never got one. My mother died soon after I was born, and he never remarried. He always expected my older sister and I to help in the shop as a son would, but Jannah was much more into the ‘girly’ side of things, and was married before I even knew what that word meant. She lives in some castle god-knows-where now.

Father had me cleaning hides from the time I could walk. And that was my future: the hunters would bring the kill in, gutted and ready; I’d cure the hide and scrub it clean, and father would tan it so that it was ready to be sewn and cut into various shapes for various uses. Marriage was simply out of the question at this point. I had a use, even though it wasn’t what most (or rather any) women were doing.

Because I was so caught up in work, I never had any real friends. The local boys used to tease me from the street, so father, not wanting to lose another woman in the family, locked me away most of the time, away from everyone my own age. This made me scared and jumpy around other people. My only friend in the world was Meredith, whose father was my father’s most regular supplier of pelts. We saw each other most every day, and although we never played in the streets together like other children, she kept me company while I was working, and was always someone I could chat to.

Until she got married to a local boy.

That marriage didn’t last long, mind you. The boys from Canisbay are split into two distinct groups: the boys from the north and from the south. They got into regular fights, and the one that claimed her husband was one of the more violent ones. The scraps had minimal casualties, but every now and then the sheriff would find a body floating in the river, and a notice would be put up on the big post in the middle of the town square to inform the family. 

This time, Meredith’s name was on the post. 

Her grievance time was short. To be completely truthful, she only married to keep her parents happy. Not that she hated her husband, but they weren’t exactly best friends at the best of times. I honestly think that, deep down, she was happy he was dead. Now, she could do the things she wanted to do. 

Like winter solstice orgies, for instance. 

The church floor was now writhing with naked bodies. It appeared as if I was the only one still fully clothed. I sighed and leaned against the back of a pew, looking off at the altar. The statue of the crucifix stared down at us with an air of condemnation. It almost looked disapproving, as if Jesus wasn’t happy that we were tainting his precious House with our adulterous ceremony. Well, Jesus, if you love your House so much, why not come and live in it?

A throat cleared next to me. I jumped, and whirled around, ready to scold whoever had snuck up on me. Instead, I went quiet. A man sat, attentive, next to me, his kind, dark eyes boring into mine. 

“What could a girl like you possibly doing in a place like this?” he asked. His voice was deep and rich, and reminded me of the cream Father gets only on special occasions.  
I smiled, blushing crimson, even though every man in the history of mankind has used that line.  
He extended his hand towards me. “I’m Fergus. Fergus MacLeod. The second.”  
I took his hand, and he squeezed slightly. “Rowena. Just Rowena.”

“Well, Just Rowena,” Fergus said, making me chuckle, “You never answered. What’s a lovely looking woman like you doing here? Don’t you have a husband to be cooking for and children to be putting to bed?”  
I ignored the last statement. “I’m here with my friend. More for support than anything. This really isn’t my thing.” I admitted. “What about you?”  
“The same,” he confessed. “I wasn’t too happy about being dragged along, but it’s my mate’s birthday, so what can you do?”  
“Indeed.” I agreed.  
“Although,” he continued, his eyes making me feel very self-conscious, “I’m quite happy I came, now that I’m talking to you.” He moved his hand slightly, so that it was on top of mine. The movement, although small and seemingly unintentional, sent shivers down my spine.

Perhaps Meredith was right. Maybe if I just switched off my brain and stopped thinking about the consequences so much, good things would come my way.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For most of Supernatural, between most of the fans, Rowena got a bit of a bad rep. Between being seen as manipulative, neglecting, and just all-around horrible, as we have seen in the latest episode, she was quite misunderstood. In this story, I give her the backstory and explanation I think she deserves.
> 
> DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU HAVE SEEN 'O BROTHER WHERE ART THOU' (11x10)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rowena was always my favourite character since she was introduced, and it really sucked to hear the bad shit that everyone was saying about her, especially before the new episode. Now, after the events of 11x10 (I don't wanna talk about it), I feel like Rowena deserves some form of backstory, or at least an explanation.
> 
> This is going to come in a few parts, and the next part will have a time difference from the last. Sometimes it will be a small amount of time, but others will be longer. Either way, it will be subtly highlighted.
> 
> Enjoy! Kudos, comment, all that good stuff. And make sure to follow my tumblr if you're not already @just-crowley-things

“So, that’s it?” Meredith asked, three days later.  
I nodded.  
“You just –”  
“Yes!”  
“Wow.” 

Meredith seemed stunned when I told her about my encounter with Fergus MacLeod II. 

“I just expected you to stay to the side, and just observe. Or, at the very least, wait until I was done.”

I’m still not quite sure whether she was mad or not at the fact that I went home with a man early instead of walking back to town with her. On one hand, she seemed proud that I’d finally snagged some form of positive male attention. On the other, she had to walk home with her last sexual partner of the night, an apparently awkward experience, due to his size and body odour. 

“But you went home with him? And he wanted you to?”  
“Why is this so hard for you to believe?” I countered.  
“It isn’t! I just – Oh, would you take your hands out of that barrel for one second?  
Meredith really didn’t like it when she was talking to me about potential husbands and I was elbow deep in hide cure.

I rolled my eyes, but still reluctantly pulled out my hands and removed my gloves, wiping my hands on my apron. “Why is this so important to you?”  
“Because, you, Rowena, the girl that’s been locked away most of your life, managed to sleep with a man who lives in a fucking castle!”  
“Meredith! Careful, someone may hear!”

Given that most of Father’s customers were older men, they tend not to like ladies acting common. Some take their business elsewhere purely because I’m the one curing the hide, so imagine what they would think if they heard a woman swearing like a sailor! We’d be hanged! Well, maybe not hanged, but you get the main idea. 

“Fuck them, Rowena! You pulled a Lord! And you didn’t even use any hex bags!”  
“Nope. Totally clean.”  
Meredith squealed, and hugged me tightly whilst jumping up and down on the spot.  
“I’m so proud of my little Wiccan-In-Training!”

Meredith’s the one that got me into witchcraft in the first place. (Honestly, she’s probably the worst influence on me I’ve ever come across). It began just as a way for me to get back at the boys that bullied me when I was younger. Cursing their grain crops. Stocking their meat full of maggots. But now that Meredith and I have got our sights set on becoming honorary members of the Grand Coven, the largest society of witches the world has ever seen, we had to step up our game. Meredith taught me everything she knew (in secret, of course. They’d burn you at the stake in those days if you were even accused of practising), but we were learning and growing together. And becoming closer and closer to our acceptance notice.


	3. Part 3

I now found myself at the MacLeod House for the second time in two weeks. It looked different in the daylight. Grander, perhaps. The front gate was slightly ajar, so I put all my weight against it and managed to push it open. I tied Father’s horse, Blaire, to one of the iron bars on the gate. I soothingly patted his snout. He shook out his mane and burred. 

I turned my back on him, and walked through the gate and into the courtyard. It wasn't very big, but it was adorned with trees and places to sit, as well as lush green vines and creepers that snaked up the stone walls. It felt almost enchanted. 

The huge dark wood double doors at the front of the house blended quite nicely with the greenery that surrounded it, but clashed with the sandy colour of the brickwork. A huge brass door-knocker adorned the woodwork, making the house look more regal than it was inside. 

I took the knocker with two determined fists and slammed it against the door with all my might. The heavy sound reverberated in my ears. I became nervous; what if I'd slammed it too hard? What if I seemed angry instead of desperate?

A woman came to the door, wearing a grey apron over her black servants dress. I hadn't seen her before, but given her outfit, and the fact that her hair was done up in a neat bun instead of down past her shoulders as per the fashion, I assumed she was a maid. 

“Can I help you?” She asked.  
“Uh… I'm here to see Fergus. MacLeod.” I added, as to not seem rude.  
“Is he expecting you?” She asked. She seemed bored.  
“No… He's not. But I do need to see him. Quite urgently in fact.”  
“I can't authorise you –“

“Bethany! Where are you?” I heard a male voice say from inside.  
Then, I saw him. He appeared at the door, looking exactly as he did that night two weeks ago.  
“Beth-“ he said quietly, and then he turned. I received the exact same look as he gave me all those nights ago, and still managed to bring the same shade of red in my hair to my cheeks. 

“Rowena…”  
“Fergus.”  
“So he was expecting you!” Bethany cut in.  
Fergus turned to her. “Bethany. Why don't you…go…check on the horses?”  
“But that's Arlen’s job.”  
“Well go check on Arlen then!”

Bethany bowed her head and turned her back on us. Fergus closed the door behind her, and stepped out into the courtyard, pushing me backwards. 

“What are you doing here Rowena?” He didn't seem mad per se, more just surprised.  
“I had something to tell you.”  
“Couldn't you have called ahead of something? So that I was at least expecting you?”  
“How?” I asked, gesturing to my work dress. “I can't afford anything like that. Letters aren't cheap, you know.”

“Well, look, I'm sorry, but you have to leave. I can't have you here – ”  
“Fergus, it's important – ”  
“Please, you must leave. Now.”  
“I'm not leaving Fergus!”

“Then what?” Fergus hissed. He was becoming angry now, and his eyes were flashing dangerously. “What could you possibly want that is so important? I thought we both agreed that we wouldn't keep in contact at all!”  
“We did, but - ”  
“Then what?”

“Fergus, I don't appreciate being treated like that!” I spat, “I didn't ride here from home, from village to village, being looked down on by strangers, for more than an hour, to be yelled at and turned away. You should know from that night that I would not be here if it weren't extremely important.”

“Then tell me. Is it money? Do you need compensation?”  
“No! Will you just listen?”  
Fergus finally went silent.  
“I've uh…missed… I think I'm pregnant.”

Fergus didn't say anything. He stood there, obviously stunned.  
“For Christ’s sake, say something, Fergus!”

“Are you sure it's mine?” He finally choked out.  
“I was a virgin. Who's else would it be?”  
“Are you sure you were? A virgin, I mean?”  
“Fergus, I'd think I'd know if I'd had sex before.”  
“But you're…so…”  
“Old? I'm only seventeen.”  
“And unmarried.”  
“I never found the time.”

Fergus put his head in his hands.  
“This can't be happening,” he murmured.  
“We’ll figure something out.”  
“No, you don't understand -”

“Fergus?” Said a voice behind him.  
I looked over his shoulder. A woman stood with a child on her hip who couldn't be older than three.  
“Who's this?” She asked innocently. 

“This is Rowena.” Fergus choked. “She's…our new cook.”

“Oh! I didn't know you'd found one already!” She said. “I suppose you're briefing her then? I'll let you get back to it. Sorry for interrupting.” Putting the child on the ground, she turned o her heel, closing the door behind her. 

“Cook?” I questioned, once the woman was gone.  
“It's the first thing that came to my head. And it's probably a good idea, mind you, because you'll be able to live here with me, and I'll be able to keep an eye on you and keep you healthy.”

“But what shall I tell my father?” I wasn't sure what his total reaction would be, but it probably wouldn't be joy. After all, he'd have no one to help him in the shop. And that's all he really cared about anyway. 

“Tell him…you're eloping. He has no say. Don't even give him time to think about it.”  
“I can't do that!” He's my father, after all. I was always the good daughter, the loyal daughter.  
Fergus took me by the shoulders. “If you don't, Rowena, you'll only make it worse for yourself. You know what they do to illegitimate children!" 

Fergus was right. They would take my baby away, before it would even open its eyes, and I would never see it again. 

He moved his left hand from my shoulder to my jaw, and forced me to look up into his eyes.  
“Go.” He urged. 

Before another word, I hopped back onto Blair and kicked him into a gallop back towards Canisbay.


	4. Part 4

I returned home to find the house completely empty. Under normal circumstances, I'd be worried about my father, because if he wasn't here he'd be at the tavern, drinking himself blind. But today was different. It was probably better that he was gone. I’m horrible at sincerity. 

I took a black leather saddle bag from my father’s workbench (don't worry, it was the one he used for sizing, not a customer’s) and carried it to my bed. I pulled out the small box of belongings I kept under there and stuffed as much of it as I could fit. Dresses. A hunting knife. A small waterskin.

By the time I was fully packed, there was close to nothing left of mine in the house, and I was laden as if I was about to embark on a three-week journey. I said my final goodbyes to the house where I grew up – Father still wasn't home, so I left a note as best I could. I could read and write a little, Father made me learn so I could write down orders for customers. Regardless, it wasn't half of what I wished I could say. And that wasn't just due to the fact I only knew what 20 of the 26 letters looked like.

If only Father knew Latin, I'm fluent in that now.

I slung my pack over Blaire’s back, fastening the saddle in place over it. I mounted, and directed Blaire to take the side streets out of Canisbay, up near the graveyard. Taking the main road would mean being spotted, and everyone knew my father. I'd be caught, taken home and never allowed to leave again before I could say ‘Fergus MacLeod’.

The streets leading away from the town square were relatively deserted. This was probably due to the fact that it was Saturday, and the markets would be open longer than usual today. Still, I nestled my face into Blaire’s mane and pulled my hood up over my tell-tale hair. 

I was almost out of town too, before it happened. I was finally starting to breathe easier, my pulse was becoming less rapid. 

All of a sudden, a flash of blue ran out into the middle of the road. “Stop!” It screamed.  
I pulled Blaire’s reigns as tightly backwards as I could, as fast as I could. 

“You weren't going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?”  
The figure approached me, and pulled down her hood.   
“Meredith.” I breathed. 

Meredith stroked Blaire’s neck slowly, and looked up into my eyes.   
“Where are you going?” She asked.   
“I…” I really wasn't sure what to say. I didn’t think Meredith would tell my father, but that wasn't the problem. I wasn't sure whether she'd let me go now that she found me. 

“Away.” I finally answered.   
But Meredith could see the pain behind my almost cold stare.   
“Rowena, get off the horse,” she whispered sternly.   
I know that whenever Meredith uses that voice, she means it, so I swung my leg over Blaire and slid off smoothly. 

Still holding Blaire’s reins, I pulled him in the direction out of town.   
“Where are you going?” Meredith asked again.  
“If you want to talk, walk with me. I'm not stopping.”

“Rowena!” Meredith complained.   
But she was already several metres behind me now, and had to jog to catch up. 

“It's not that lord is it? Fergus or whatever his name was?” Meredith asks.  
When I didn't meet her gaze, she became livid.  
“Rowena!” She exclaimed, “You can't run off with him!”   
I didn’t respond, but she continued on her rant.  
“He’ll leave you! You must know that already! He says he loves you now, but just wait a few months! You'll be -”  
I grabbed her by the front of her dress, pulling her in.

“You think I'm doing this by choice? You think I want to leave Canisbay? Leave Father? Leave you?” I let her dress go, but Meredith is still obviously stunned. She stepped back, and almost overbalanced.

“Why are you going?” Meredith whispered.  
I took a deep breath. “I think I'm pregnant.” I answered. 

Meredith gasped loudly and put her hands over her mouth.  
“How do you know?”

“I missed…”  
Meredith nodded, still obviously dumbstruck.   
“You think it's his?”  
“I know it is.”  
Who's else would it be?  
“Of course.” Meredith whispered.   
After a pause, she continued. “What are you going to do?”

I sighed and closed my eyes.   
“I don't know. I think he's taking me on as a kitchen hand. So he can keep an eye on me. I don't know if I'll be back.”

Meredith took my hands in hers, the reins still in my grip, and now in both our palms.   
“When shall we three meet again?” She recited, “In thunder, darkness, or in rain?”  
“When the Hurlyburly’s done.” I continued with a knowing smirk, “When the battle’s lost and won.”  
“That will be ere the set of sun.” We finished together.

Meredith pulled me into a crushing hug.   
“I know there's only two of us,” she whispered into my ear, “but it seemed fitting.”  
I just smiled. The King’s Theatre Troupe brought Macbeth to Edinburgh recently, and Meredith and I decided to test our magical ability by spelling ourselves into the audience. We overshot slightly, and managed to score the empty top box. 

Meredith let me go, and, with a sniffle, wiped her nose. Her eyes were starting to tear up. I needed to go, or I'd start crying too. 

“Well, get up there then.” Said Meredith, her voice breaking slightly. I kissed her cheek quickly, and mounted Blaire. 

“We will meet again,” I reassured her.   
I urged Blaire into a quick trot, and within seconds, Meredith was gone, like my childhood, my town, and my father. Gone. 

I heard from somewhere that father died soon after I left. I believe it was gradual poisoning from the fumes he breathed in everyday in the shop, but others say different.

They say he died of a broken heart.

All the most important people in his life had left, and his heart just... gave in.

I thought it was a load of crap.

At least, until the events of the last year or so. 

Finally, I have understood what it feels like to have your heart broken so many times, it quits. 

And I finally understand now. Father didn't die of a broken heart, he died because of it.

Maybe that's just another thing I should add to my list of things I should be sorry for.


	5. Part 5

Fergus’ castle was located in John’O’Groats. Now, it's just a town with the ruins of an old castle and the remnants of crushed spirits, but back then, it was busy, filled to the brim with bustling people; going about their daily business, living freely, the way they wanted to. I envied them all. 

Fergus came from a long line of thanes. They were a family that were very close to the King, and they were always valued very highly when it came to new coronations. Normally, with each new king, a new thane may be appointed, or may be switched with another, but the MacLeods had been Thane of John’O’Groats for centuries. 

John’O’Groats was a town over from Canisbay, and about an hour’s horse ride. I was there before sunset. 

Fergus met me out the front of his gates. He instructed me silently to dismount, and, when I did, I followed him round the back and through several gates to a stable, where I tied up Blaire. 

Fergus spoke. “I didn't expect you to come back.”  
“I needed to. You know that.”  
Fergus just nodded. “I'll show you to your room.”  
I noted that he was much less vocal now than he was this morning, or even that night. 

I was led through the back of the castle to a room at the very top of a turret. It was cramped, and included a small bed and a chest of drawers. But it was more than I’ve ever had before.   
“I couldn't have you staying in the servants quarters,” said Fergus, looking to his feet, “At least not in your condition.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Fergus. This is wonderful.”  
“You're very welcome.” I could hear the awkwardness in his voice. He was way out of his comfort zone with me. And, for some reason, that made me blissfully happy. 

“Once you've…um…unpacked,” said Fergus, still unsure, “Go down to the kitchens and meet with Cook. She'll tell you what your jobs for your stay here will be. To get to the kitchen, go down all the way until you reach a hallway, then up one end you'll see the parlour, next to that there's a heavy-looking brown door leading to some stone steps. Go down them and you'll find the kitchen.”  
“Thank you.” I mumbled. This was becoming awkward for me too. 

Fergus bowed his head slightly, and left the room. 

I sat on the bed, the saddle bag in my lap. No tears came. They would fall later, when I would be engulfed in an unfamiliar bed inside an unfamiliar room. 

I took out each of my dresses and folded them, placing them each carefully in the chest of drawers. Not wanting to spend any more time than I had to in that room, I left as soon as I'd unpacked, bound for the kitchens. 

*** 

“You must be the new girl.” Said the cook as soon as I entered the kitchen.   
“Yes,” I murmured.   
“First rule of the kitchen,” said the cook, slamming a lid down over a boiling pot, “Speak up! Now, are you the new girl, or aren't you?”  
“I am.” I said, louder.   
“Better. Now, your name, if you please.”  
“Rowena.” I stated.   
“Lovely. I'm Cook MacDuff, although you can just call me Cook if that's easier for you. We have Reilly and Paige working in the kitchen and Annette, Bethany and Arlen are the waitstaff and cleaners. If I see them when I'm with you and remember, I'll formally introduce you, but right now’s a bit of a bad time.  
You're kitchen hand, which means, primarily that you're my underling. Whatever I say goes, got it?”

I nodded. 

“Good. Tonight's pretty simple, just a standard family meal. We've got the duck roasting in the oven, and I've just put the vegetables on, so everything shall be ready on time. Your job tonight is to serve Master and Lady MacLeod. Simple.”

She thrusted a white apron at me. “Put that on over your dress, and go and put your hair up. Then report back to me.”

Cook did seem strict, but I was finding it increasingly more difficult to dislike her.


End file.
